


Lonely Soul

by sigilofthenight



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drunk Grantaire, Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, Enjolras Was A Charming Young Man Who Was Capable Of Being Terrible, Grantaire-centric, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, One-Sided Enjolras/Grantaire, Revolution, Sad Grantaire, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21526942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigilofthenight/pseuds/sigilofthenight
Summary: He was just another lovesick fool, possibly even worse than Marius, for Pontmercy had a chance to be with the woman he so desired, whereas Grantaire had no chance to be ever loved back by the only man he would ever give his life for.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Kudos: 25





	Lonely Soul

“Get out.”

These two words, short yet so full of passion, rang loudly in Grantaire’s drunk ears. He looked up to find the owner of the harsh voice, only to find that the man the sound belonged to was his Apollo. Grantaire scolded himself silently, for he usually always recognized Enjolras’ voice, even in his drunken stupor. 

“Why, Apollo? You know I am here for you,” he told the blond man slowly, sounding as sober as he possibly could with liters of wine in his system.

“We have no use of your drunkenness in a revolution you do not even believe in, leave!” Enjolras growled, trying to keep his temper in place. He never knew how to deal with the drunkard properly, but he could not find himself to care. That may sound harsh to you, but he had a revolution to run, and thought everything that formed an obstacle had to be removed. 

“I believe in you,” Grantaire replied miserably.

Enjolras shook his head. He could see that the man admired him greatly, but if that admiration did not include the revolution, there was no place for such antics in the Musain. The place served as meeting spot for fellow citizens of his patria, France. It was not to be used as a spot for lonely souls to waste their ours away in search of a lover they would not find, for these people never tried to seek someone they could have, but instead spent their days dreaming of the person they so desired, not wanting to realize that said individual does not exist in reality. 

“Then believe in my words, citizen, and join in our fight for a better world.”

“There won’t be a better world, Apollo. Men are broken things, so damaged that even God does not bother fixing them. There is no hope for humanity left. We might as well enjoy the pleasures of life now that we are still able to purchase them.” 

But for young Enjolras, pleasure was not found in the materialistic things the rich so enjoyed, no, he found his pleasure in helping his fellow citizens, trying to build a future that every individual in France could enjoy, no matter what class or race. Maybe there was a part of the man in red that enjoyed materialism, but that part would only rise to the surface of his conscious if every citizen of France was there to appreciate the creative and innovative talents of Man with him. 

“If that is what you truly believe, go away and don’t waste my time again,” he replied harshly, venom in his words. 

Grantaire felt a pang in his heart, nothing hurt him greater than his hero turning him down. It was not the first time, nor would it be the last time, that Apollo sent him away, but no matter how many times he got told to leave, it never touched him any less.

He believed that, in a way, it served him right. He shouldn’t bother Apollo, certainly not when he was busy working and plotting his cause, but he could never manage to stay away from the cafe. He told himself it was because of the cheap alcohol he would get there, but he knew that that was just a lie, not able to fool anyone, let alone himself.

He was just another lovesick fool, possibly even worse than Marius, for Pontmercy had a chance to be with the woman he so desired, whereas Grantaire had no chance to be ever loved back by the only man he would ever give his life for.

That was just his luck, wasn’t it? Always loving the people that were unable to love him back.

A part of him wanted to blame Enjolras, how could he not see that he loved him with all of his heart? Yet he couldn’t blame him, for he understood that the fault was completely his. He had to learn to control his feelings, for maybe then he could be just as strong and brave as Apollo. 

But for now, he could only wish to ever be brave enough to put the bottle of wine away. For the reality was that his only love and constancy in life was the bottle of wine, always there at his call. 

He walked out of the Musain with his head down. Was it an option that Enjolras was right about him? Was he really useless? Good for nothing? He sighed and reached for his wallet, entering yet another liquor shop, ready to drink his thoughts and foolishness away. 

The cold bottle rested against the palm of Grantaire’s hand, a familiar sensation spread through his body, calming his nerves instantly. He was so far gone that even just the sight of a bottle of wine made him feel good, yet he still craved the familiar taste of the liquid on his tongue. He did not like the taste of the grapes anymore, but he could not break away of the habit of drinking. He needed the warmth in his throat just a little more than he needed Enjolras. The alcohol embraced him as an old friend, where his Apollo only pushed him away like he was an old rag that did not need to be used. 

Grantaire reminded himself that he would find a way to impress Enjolras, he would, he just simply did not know how. He could study tactics, politics and French history, he knew he could, yet he could not find himself to care enough to buy any book related to the subject. 

He knew it would not do him any good now, it was already too late. Dark thoughts filled his mind again, thoughts he did not wish to have.

He hates you. He hates you. He hates you.

O, maybe he did, but Enjolras could never truly hate a martyr of France. Maybe if he gave his life for France, he would make Enjolras proud, and he could finally be happy again in the garden of the Lord, far away from all the pain and misery of the Earth. And then, when the time is ripe, Enjolras would join him in Heaven. They would feast together and sing, dance and drink.

Grantaire sighed. If only that was the truth. He knew that, either way, he was going to join the demons in Hell, far away from the high Mount Olympus, where his Apollo would reside. But he would climb out of the depths of hell and run until he reached the top of the mountain and found his Apollo, where he would embrace him and be with him forever. 

He smiled softly. It was good to know that even he, a lowly drunkard, could fight God and win, for no one could separate him from his handsome saint.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work here, hope you enjoyed! If there were any grammatical issues, feel free to correct me in the comments. English isn't my native language and I'm always up for learning more about the language :)


End file.
